Scott is a brilliant man

Two things completely unrelated to each other. First, the next time I make caramel corn I am going to sift it for rogue kernels. Ouch! Second, I wasn't trying to save the earth from th evils of big oil or the green house effect of corbon monoxide in the atmosphere, I bought the rotary lawn mower because I needed to mow at night.
Code enforcement was only called once and it was more for the jungle in my back yard than the woody weed grass in my front yard. I hated mowing because it meant something else necessary wasn't going to get done on lawn day. If I did the other things I would always get in after 8 p.m. - a.k.a. the city's noise curfew. Plus, Oklahoma in the summer hits humid 90 by 6 a.m. It is miserable to mow a lawn behind a frickin gas powered lawn mower. Plus the mess it left behind was another chore all on its own.
So, once I saved enough for the rotary . . . I . . . sorta . . . I left my lawn mower outside the fence near the alley way.  God bless the theif who freed me from my chains, and I am not talkin' Jesus on this one. It only took about 24 hours for my gas powered lawn mower to grow feet and disappear. I hope who ever took it started a lawn business and didn't pawn it for drugs. I prayed over it in that manner as soon as I noticed it missing.
I went to WalMart (clearly when I still believed in their business model) and bought a Scott's.
The biggest draw for me was the no motor thing. Tell me I can't mow after 8 p.m. Hmphf. Watch me!
I put the baby in her crib, turned the monitor on high and started my usual path. Then I stopped in my usual path. A 1/4 inch or larger stick branch or other debris is rotary kriptonite. Picked them all up (than you oak tree, for that special treat - sheds worse than a dog), then continued on . . . my . . . pa . . . pa . . . (rocks are kryptonite, too) path.
And you will hear a similar story from nearly every review of a rotary mower. I guess I only really expect to be able to cut at night so what happened over the next few weeks made me a true believer. Anyone who know me, knows I was strapped for cash like crazy then. There was no magic, no sorcery! (I will espect a check in the mail for this solid endorsement right here). I saw it start in the low corner first. Each time I cut, I saw a bigger and bigger patch of Kentucky Bluegrass spread over the front portion of my lawn. I was so proud of my grass. If I hadn't got a new job and moved to another town, I am sure I could have made my whole yard an oasis among the halfway house and prison release drug echange on my street on Sundays. I swear it wasn't that way when I moved in.
after I moved back to Utah, it sat for a while in Mom's garage becore I lent it to an Airman for a summer. Somewhere in the move both carriage bolts that secure the handle got lost, I am going to say panhandle-ish?
Since she gave it back it has been sitting in the weather looking sad and rusty. I was a little scared of the cost to repair it so I didn't even look up the part. Joke was on me. They sell the bolt and the washer to secure it, in the applicable size, for 22 cents per assembly. She had done a remarkable job securing the hadle with a bundle of nylon rope that probably cost more than a whole bucket of the bolts. And it has sat getting beaten up by the weather for two years now. I found the 1/4 in x 2 in carriage bolt and nut and they fit. Now I need to WD-40 the blade to see if I can clean it first. Then rustoleum.
I worried that the rust would have dulled the blade so I called a lawn mowe repair guy who said no matter where you take it, no on does it them selves, they all send it to the same shop in Salt Lake City and that guy charges $120 to do it. I said, "excuse me?" He sai yes, it costs more to have him"sharpen" it than it does to just go buy a new one.
This is where my conservationist starts talking to my rationalist and I googled how to sharpen it. It doesn't require grinding, it doesn't require an artisan like skilled labor. It requires a goop that has the sharpening abrasive in it and a handle to turn the blade. All I am saying is, if I get good at this, I might have found my quirky niche side job that can bring in $75 a mower. : )

Thought I couldn't . . .

I looked around me. I wondered if establishing roots meant giving up freedom. I guess it seems like I am all over the place lately. I called my dad and asked if he would help me put a down payment on a house. I had applied for several jobs, most of which were out of town. Then I found a home I couldn't ignore.

I talked to realestate and financial people just to see what could be done. The bank, as they are known to do, preapproved me for more than I thought was prudent. It was scary.

Then I found my house. I told the agent he was the one. I didn't want to wait to make an offer. It was a good thing I didn't. It is a good property I can live in and rent out at the same time. I took a chance. Pray that things work out the way they are supposed to.

Something new

Over the weekend I got a wild hair . . . so I colored it

I guess you could call it growing up or something. I have always opened my eyes in the morning knowing that I was blond. Ever since I was little, very - very blond. After the last eight years, I barely recognize myself when I look in the mirror. So I took to not looking. At least, not for very long.

I have felt twelve years old since I turned 12 years old. This weekend, after much debate with my me-ness, I finally decided to dye my hair. My mom immediately wanted to know why I chose red. To be honest I have wanted it to be this color for a long time. I remember my mom's hair when I was in 3rd grade. It was just about this color and I loved it. But I would always run across stylists that wanted my hair to be a color they thought was right for me. Or others who ruined my color because they were focused on other people and not on the special needs of my crazy hair.

I found one who took one look at my hair and said, "oh, yeah, we can do that."

When all was said and done, this is what happened. I knew I would look ok with it this color because, genetically speaking, it was born in me. Ever since I gave birth to my daughter, something weird happened to my blond-blond hair. It became this mousy blond color that I didn't like at all.

Finally, now that all goals are complete that have taken my time and attention, I decided to do what was in my mind to do. What I didn't expect was not recognizing myself anymore.

Part of me feels like I missed more than 20 years of my life and I woke up Sunday morning as a grown-up. The most significant thing though has been people reacting to new me. I ran it by my family and they are ok with it. I ran it by my friends and one said it was like I should have always had hair this color. I am sure once everyone sees it, the newness will wear off and I will have to come to terms with the 20 years. So please be patient with me as I learn to adult.

Joy comes with the morning . . .

This whole week has been surreal. I have been watching wonderful things happen all around me. People who have been waiting to have a baby have finally been blessed with the happy news of a viable pregnancy. A friend who is close enough to call sister who was mistreated in her career finally received news of her promotion. A friend trying to slog her way through the rigors of divorce got a job offer that puts her on a path to fiscal recovery. Another friend is seeing the rewards of a lifetime of good work ethic.


I am happy for all of these people. After witnessing their reward for long suffering, I am encouraged.


For me, there is tinge of sadness. I don't know what is left to hope for. You know how I talked about that lesson that I have been trying to teach Xyla, well, I guess it is time for me to pay attention and practice what I preach. These people have blessed me with the opportunity to help them celebrate their long fought victories so I am going to count that joy. For my ride, I am going to sit back and see where life is going to take me. 

Time is short . . .

This weekend my daughter turned to me and said, "you know how I told you you are the best mom ever? It is because of stuff like this!"


Earlier I had asked her if she wanted to go for a drive on Sunday afternoon. She was all for it. As we set out on the drive we started to head toward my surprise for her. Normally, she can't stand waiting on a surprise. I always ask her if she trusts me. She used to say, "no." But I wouldn't tell her.


We turned into the small theme park we have here near our house and she was so excited she could barely contain herself. We walked over to the passport office. She didn't know what that meant since she'd never been before. We walked through the entrance and showed them her passport. I told her, this card makes it so we can come here any time we want to this season. *Cue best mom ever statement.


There is a bitter sweetness in this though. She is always concerned that someday we will not be together anymore. I get the impression she thinks that time is short. I hate to say it but I sometimes feel that way too. I feel like something is in our destiny.


So I am trying to teach her all the skills she will need to take care of herself. One of the most important things I taught her this weekend was that sometimes you go where life takes you and you'll be rewarded. It isn't always important to know exactly where you are going. This has been the hardest lesson for me to learn. I have always had a contingency plan for my plans.


The other thing that has been hard for me to get is that I don't laugh as much as I should. Twice in the last few weeks, she has been amazed at me laughing as though she'd never seen it before. And that kind of breaks my heart. Mostly because I know it means I have been so focused on planning to plan that I have forgotten the point of the lesson up there. So my New Years Resolution, starting today, is to laugh more because . . . time is short.

Best Friends

I was sitting at my desk. I just responded to an email and pretty much wrapped up the last item on my to do list for the day. It was just before lunch so I took a detour into Facebook and found that my best friend was at Lagoon and nearly in tears because she was lonely.

I called my boss and asked for the afternoon off. I am sure he wants me to take my annual leave more than four hours at a time but it is what I have. He didn't ask questions simply said yes.

I went home and changed my shoes. Going to spend the afternoon at a theme park is the one instance where even the cutest heels are not going to cut it. I called her and told her I was on my way.

After riding a rollercoaster that didn't have a camera to capture the moment you realize it doesn't just drop down, it tips you almost all the way over, eating fried lunch and hoping in the photo booth to take a crazy set of pictures, we decided to ride the gondola.

Utah is a weird place where everyone is super nice everywhere but on the road. So the school kids who invaded the park that day would wave and say a polite hello. One passing gondola had two girls in it. One girl looked at my friend and I and said, "you two look like best friends." We told her we are. She said that she and the girl in her gondola were also best friends. Since there wasn't much time for chatting my friend told them to keep it up as along as possible.

It probably sounded like a weird thing to say, but if they knew what we know it wouldn't sound that way. Especially because of the unconventional way this all started.

I was 16 and my parents informed me that we were moving to Idaho. I thought I was going to graduate where I was at but instead I had to do what is hard for kids to do, move and start all over again. I prayed and told God that if he wanted me to be ok with this he would have to send me a best friend. I had friends I wa s close to but by the time I moved there in 3rd grade, the best friend ties were already made.

I felt like the answer I got was "Ok, but it won't be easy." I didn't understand it at the time. Now I know that to initiate a best friendship with someone at age 16, something had to be truly broken. And we both were. She had a series of disappointing friendships to say the least which made her less than receptive to trusting anyone.

We've gone through hell in 20 years, at times losing touch sometimes with reality sometimes with eachother. I don't think it sank in that she was stuck with me for life until she was on strict bedrest when she was pregnant. That is when I think she gave in.

Her son is now a teenager and when she chaperoned him and his friends, they took off and left her by herself. The other parents buddied up and she felt very alone sitting on a bench by herself. She posted this fact on facebook.

Now. This is a delicate thing. See, in 1997 my English class (AP for those wondering) was taking a field trip to Salt Lake to see The Scarlet Letter. It turned out there were extra seats on the bus, extra students would just need a lunch and permission from their parents.

I invited her to come. She hated English class with a passion usually reserved for people who cut in line without acknowledging they just made your wait even longer. She also hated getting up early and the bus left at 6 a.m. She never said whether she was going. But when we got to the playhouse, I found out she'd made it on the second bus, didn't have time to pack lunch and was just able to get her mom to agree.

She was there because she knew I didn't want to be alone.

Fast forward. I knew she didn't want to be alone. So even though I am not the kind of person who ditches work to go to an amusement park, I did it anyway Having her as my best friend for 19 years hasn't always been easy. There were times I made it hard and times when she made it hard. But it has always been worth it.

God gave her to me and I never want to waste auch a precious gift. I know that one day I will get the news that she is gone. I have been preparing myself for that news since we were 18. And that is why I giver her everything I have to give. I know my time with her is limited so I have to make the most of it

What's toast got to do with it?

In venturing out into the world of dating, one guy put an interesting concept out there. He went on and on about how we have become a disposable world where nothing is as it seems and people don't value anything any more.

Then he gave a specific example of when your toaster breaks, you throw it out and buy a new one instead of getting it fixed.

So here is the story about my toaster.

When we moved to Idaho my mom's toaster gave out and mom said we'd get a new one after the move. We were toastless for a couple of years. When my mom's boss asked what he should get me for my graduation present, I told him I wanted a toaster. Because I missed toast.

The reasons I have nothing but love and respect for this man start with the fact that he's blind and teaches other people to deal with their blindness to his generous support of me by lending his car to me in high school. Let that sink in . . . Blind guy . . . Lent me his car. Moving on.

He is one of the few men who get it. If you don't know what a woman wants . . . ask, if she tells you, belive her. When I opened the present he brought, I was ecstactic. He thought it was weird but my happiness confirmed it.

With graduations coming soon I just want to emphasize that through six moves and four states, my toaster and I are still together! So here is the metaphor - if you take care of something it will last forever.

While the guy was impressed by the fact that I have had the toaster that long, it turned out that he sounded older than he let on. I am not sure he has ever been to Italy and after telling me he was "the one" for me and to stop looking for anyone else - he called in a raincheck half an hour before our first date and hasn't called back since.

I guess I just have to get someone to believe I want a quality toaster.